I Killed Cora
by Onceuponatimebiggestfan
Summary: SPOILER ALERT ouatouatouatouatoutaouatouat ouatouatouatouatouatouatouat ouatouatoaut Emma has had quite the day. She got to skip work, comfort her hysterical mother, and demolish her fear of a certain three lettered word. After The Miller's Daughter, Snow/Emma fluff.


**This is just a little one shot I got after The Millers Daughter. The evil plot bunny refuses to leave, so you all now have a sweet little Snow/Emma one shot. :)**

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Emma Pov

Emma ran a hand through her hair and stared at the door. Right behind it one could hear the sounds of Mary Margaret sobbing softly.

David was at the police station, saying he'd work for Emma when she'd requested to see if she could cheer Mary Margaret up alone.

He had merely replied, "She always seemed to of preferred one-to-one comfort anyways." But that seemed years ago.

Emma drew in another shaky breath and sighed.

She had been so sure about her plan to cheer up her mother/best friend just talking about it, but actually doing it... that was something else entirely.

Emma studied the peeling paint that covered the doorknob, trying to stall the time until she'd have to open the door out of guilt.

But that was when she heard it.

"I... kil- killed Cora!" Mary Margaret exclaimed softly between tears. Sure, Emma had heard that line before, as she had stood outside Mary Margaret's door for nearly 30 minutes, but those words had sounded just so miserable.

So heartfelt. So vivid. So... depressed.

Emma inhaled sharply and continued in examining the doorknob. But the guilt was eating away at her insides.

She had to do it, no matter how terrifying it seemed.

Emma placed a trembling hand on the doorknob she'd been observing and turned it.

On top of an unmade bed sat Mary Margaret, hair a mess, tears streaming down her face and still in her pjs.

She abruptly stopped the streaming tears, though, when Emma entered. Emma tried not to notice this and sat down next to her, making the bed squeak in protest.

Emma rubbed Mary Margaret's back awkwardly, trying to convince her to open up to her as she would always do when they were just roommates.

That's when it hit her. Emma knew how to stop Mary Margaret from bottling up her emotions.

She turned her head to face the wall with a confused Mary Margaret following her gaze, and exhaled.

Emma faced Mary Margaret again, but not as the confused and angry daughter, not as the caring but distant friend, but as the lonely roommate, the only person Mary Margaret would ever truly confide in.

The effect was immediate. Mary Margaret was sobbing again, which was a lot better than putting on a brave mask and squishing her real feelings behind it.

It took sometime, but, seeing as humans don't have an unlimited water supply, Mary Margaret ran out of tears to shed.

"Want some hot coco? It's probably cold by now but I made you some." Emma asked.

It was true. Before, to stall, she'd made some of Mary Margaret's favorite comfort food (or drink), thinking it'd cheer her up.

Now, she was wondering if Mary Margaret would still want the drink cold. So, needless to say, Emma was rather surprised when Mary Margaret offered her a small and appreciative nod.

Emma retrieved the hot coco from a stand in the hallway and gave it to her roommate.

Mary Margaret sipped it gratefully and was done in a matter of minutes. When Emma saw how much brighter Mary Margaret's eyes had become, she'd been SO tempted to leave.

But her plan wasn't done yet. It still needed to be finished off, but Emma was thinking back on that thought now.

Was it nessecary? She didn't specifically have to... But Mary Margaret could obviously still be happier.

She deserved to be smiling, not just 'not crying hysterically'. Emma would complete her plan.

For Mary Margaret.

Then, of course, Emma just had to find that she was hyperventilating. Noticing how Mary Margaret was quickly becoming suspicious, Emma grabbed the empty mug from her hands and stood up.

Ok, maybe she wasn't going to finish her plan.

Emma could easily of just walked away right then, but she knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself.

Plus, it was just a puny three lettered word. Why was she getting so worked up over it?

Emma looked straight into her mother's eyes as the confused and angry daughter.

Except now, it was just the still confused but loving daughter.

"You know, it's not your fault. You were just trying to protect your family... mom." Emma's mind was churning, so she turned quickly to leave, trying to remove the tension she'd placed in the air.

That's about when Mary Margaret pulled her back and engulfed her in a tension-removing hug.

Emma set the mug on the bed, forgotten, and returned the gesture, not nearly as awkwardly as she imagined.

For the first time both mother and daughter didn't wish for the time before the curse was broken, before the uncomfortableness had started, even if they would be isolated from each other at heart.

And the mug on the bed just symbolized that, no matter how far apart the two were, there would always be some sort of connection, even if it just was the simple love of hot chocolate.

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**There it is. I imagined snow as hysterical, staying in her room non stop, and Emma helping her depression.**

**Review please. :)**


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